


talking with your head in the clouds

by kirigirid



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Living Together, Sick Character, Sickfic, hehe. i love sickfics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 07:23:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20188477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirigirid/pseuds/kirigirid
Summary: kyouko comes down with the flu. for makoto, it's almost as entertaining as it is worrying.





	talking with your head in the clouds

Makoto lets out an irritated sigh, watching his breath appear in the frigid air. It’s the Friday night of a particularly exhausting week of work and study. He’s looking forward to having the weekend off and spending some (well deserved, if he does say so himself) quality time with his girlfriend, who should be home by now. His hands sting as he makes a clumsy shot at thrusting the keys in the lock. The shot fails miserably, and he’s forced to take a little more care on the second attempt. Luckily enough, the key slides in, bringing him one step further away from the frosty wind and one step closer to sweet warmth. And even better, one step closer to seeing Kyouko.  
  
As soon as he steps inside, his skin prickles with the major change in temperature. It’s positively sweltering in the house.  
  
It’s also completely quiet, which is unusual.  
  
And it’s not to do with the fact that Byakuya isn’t home, because he’s grown used to his absence over the past three days. It’s Kyouko’s presence that seems to be missing. There’s no resounding tap of Kyouko working on her computer, no soft murmur of the classical piano music she favours drifting down the hall.  
  
Something doesn’t seem right. It’s too quiet.  
  
“Kyouko? I’m home,” Makoto calls. There’s no response. A sensation of uneasiness settles in his stomach as he heads towards the kitchen.  
  
There’s an abandoned cup of coffee on the kitchen counter. On closer inspection, it’s half-finished and long-cold. Kyouko isn’t one to ever waste a cup of coffee, particularly when she’s had a busy day, which she would’ve today.

  
Peering into the bedroom, he notes that there’s a Kyouko-shaped lump burrowed in a stack of blankets.The Kyouko-shaped lump coughs, groans, and then coughs again. The cough is a painful, wet, cough - evident of someone who is obviously sick with a cold or something worse.  
  
Oh.  
  
Everything slots neatly into place for Makoto - Kyouko had offhandedly mentioned that she had a headache yesterday afternoon, had picked at her dinner last night, and had been fast asleep in bed by ten (when she usually only falls asleep past midnight). Vaguely, Makoto remembers her ordering tea at the campus cafe early yesterday morning. Kyouko never drinks tea unless she has a sore throat.She’s sick. His heart twinges with guilt. He should’ve realised it sooner.  
  
Kyouko coughs again, her forehead furrowing in her sleep. She lets out a strangled gasp of pain. Makoto’s hand automatically flies out to rub her back, instinctively wanting to comfort her.  
Kyouko mutters something indiscernible in her sleep, and he presses a hand to her forehead. She’s fever-warm to the touch.  
  
“Kyouko,” Makoto says firmly, although the movement of his hand through her hair is gentle as he tries to rouse her.  
  
“Who...?” Kyouko mumbles, eyes not opening.

  
“Makoto. Wake up, love.”  
  
“Nnh...”  
  
“Wake up, Kyouko. It’s just me. You’re dreaming.”  
  
Slowly, her eyes open. She quints at him, her eyes narrowing in a sort of nonplussed bewilderment.  
  
When she doesn’t speak, Makoto fills the silence. “Are you sick?” Makoto says. “You’re burning up.”  
  
Kyouko gives a small nod, then winces as if the movement hurts her head. “‘S the flu.”

  
“The flu?”  
“Mmm...Sayaka made me go to the medical centre. Against my will.”  
  
“Wait, what?” Makoto tries to piece together the gaps in Kyouko’s story.  
  
“Ugh.” She rolls her eyes like he’s the one who isn’t lucid, propping herself up on her elbow. Her hair is sticking up all over the place. Makoto hasn’t really seen her like this, so disheveled and comically out of it that he doesn’t know whether to be concerned or laugh.  
  
“How did you get home?” He settles on asking.  
  
“Sayaka drove me home,” Kyouko says. “The nurses said I have the flu and that I need to take it easy."  
  
“Did they, now?” Makoto perches next to Kyouko on the bed and makes a mental note to text Sayaka and thank her. “I think I can agree with them on that."  
  
“Mhm.” Kyouko tosses herself on her back. “Gave me medicine. Cherry-flavoured. Gross.”  
  
“Is that why you’re so loopy right now?” Makoto lets the back of his hand rest on her cheek. She leans into his touch; Makoto feels the corners of his lips upturn involuntarily.  
  
“‘M not,” Kyouko protests, although her eyes can’t focus on Makoto properly.  
  
“Alright, alright, sorry. Do you remember what your temperature was?”  
  
Kyouko hums, deep in thought. “102? Something like that. It doesn’t matter…” She flips herself over onto her stomach. “Are you done interrogating me? I want to go back to sleep.”  
“102? Geez, Kyouko... I’ll be back in a second, okay? Don’t go back to sleep yet.”  
  
“Okay,” Kyouko says, closing her eyes anyway. “Come back soon. I want to cuddle.”  
  
Makoto smiles at his feverish girlfriend before hoisting himself up and heading towards the bathroom. He’s never actually seen her properly sick before - sure, she’s had the odd few headcolds scattered here and there, but she’s always powered through them and never really put herself in the position where Makoto could actually take care of her. With the apparent blessing of the minor deliriousness by her fever, he might actually be able to help her feel a little better this time.  
  
When Makoto returns with a bowl full of cold water and a washcloth, as well as a bottle of water, Kyouko is thankfully wide awake. At the sound of his footsteps, Kyouko turns her head. Her glassy eyes sluggishly drift to the cargo in his hands as he sits down on the bed, and she frowns, suddenly more lucid. “I sincerely hope that you aren’t about to put that on my face."  
“…Don’t get mad. I need to bring your fever down."  
  
“Ugh.” Kyouko flops back down and pulls the blanket up so it covers her face entirely.  
  
“Byakuya would say that this is unbecoming of you, you know," Makoto teases. "You're being such a baby."  
  
“Byakuya can eat my whole ass.”  
  
Makoto nearly chokes on his own spit, but wills all of the muscles in his face to co-operate with him so it isn’t evident how shocked he feels at that statement. “Kyouko, oh my God—“  
  
Kyouko, seemingly unaware (or uncaring) of his embarrassment, frowns. “Where is Byakuya anyway?”  
  
“On a business trip. Remember? We drove him to the airport three days ago.” The airport was probably where she’d picked up the flu, Makoto imagined. How she managed to get sick and he didn’t was beyond him - maybe he was lucky, for once.  
  
“Ah. I do remember,” Kyouko says, now placated.  
  
“Mhm, good, good. Now, can you face me please?"  
  
“Why?”  
  
“So I can save some of your brain cells from cooking in your skull.”  
  
Kyouko huffs, which makes her cough roughly. Despite her apprehension, she rolls over to face upwards. “I have plenty of brain cells.”  
  
“I’m sure you do, Kyouko.” He gives her a comforting pat on the arm, then dips the cloth into the water and tentatively places it on Kyouko’s forehead. The effect is near immediate, with Kyouko stiffening and a full-body shudder running through her as goosebumps sprout on her arms.  
  
  
“Makotooooo,” She whines, uselessly flailing an arm at him. “That’s too cold.”  
“It’s just because you’re too warm. It’ll help, I promise.” Makoto runs his fingers lightly across her scalp in an attempt to comfort her, breathing out a soft laugh as he watches her features soften, the look of discomfort she was adorning beginning to disappear. “There we go. That’s a little better, isn’t it?”  
  
Kyouko nods, looking tired. “Can you lie down with me…?” She says, suddenly seeming pensive.  
  
“Yeah, of course!” Makoto sounds so enthusiastic that his words all blur together, but it’s getting late, and he’s tired. He could use a nap before he goes to make dinner and do some study. He levers himself under the blankets, settling and then turning towards Kyouko. The warmth she’s radiating is a worry. “You don’t feel too bad, right?” He says, letting his hand rest on her cheek again.  
  
Next to him, Kyouko makes a soft, congested sighing noise, flipping herself over onto his side and sprawling her legs across him. “I’ll be fine. Stop worrying."  
  
Maybe he won’t end up doing any study tonight.  
  
He pulls out his phone so he can text a quick thank you to Sayaka. God knows that Kyouko would’ve just stayed on campus until she passed out if she didn’t.  
  
“Sayaka?” Kyouko says, watching Makoto type.  
  
“Yep. Just saying thank you to her for taking you home.”  
  
“Ah. That was nice of her,” Kyouko muses as she nuzzles into Makoto’s chest, her bony elbows stabbing into the soft flesh of his stomach. He wraps an arm around her anyway (her discomfort is greater, and far more pressing than his, after all), moving his hand in rhythmic circles on her back. Kyouko lets out a content sigh, though her moment of peace is disrupted as she starts to cough.  
  
“That cough doesn’t sound good,” Makoto murmurs, helping her sit up a little as he rubs her back. Maybe she’ll need to see a doctor tomorrow.  
  
“‘M okay,” Kyouko manages to mumble between coughs. Her hand clutches Makoto’s arm desperately. “Just hurts my chest.”  
The unashamed admittance of her ailment catches him off guard for a moment - it’s so utterly unlike her. This version of Kyouko is interesting to Makoto. She’s far less reserved - that is to say, the constant filter that wraps her brain like a vice and has her acting like a Kirigiri is absent.  
  
“You should go to sleep,” Makoto suggests lightly, shifting as Kyouko readjusts her tired body into a comfortable position.  
  
Kyouko grunts.  
  
“Sleep, Kyouko,” He says softly.

  
“I guess I don’t really have a choice,” Kyouko says, more to herself than him. With that final note, she buries her head in his chest, her hands tucked up between them.

  
“I love you,” Makoto says, pressing a kiss to her cheek.  
  
“…Love you too,” She says, sighing.  
  
Makoto holds her until she sleeps, then quietly slips away into the kitchen to make soup. This wasn’t exactly how he was planning his quality time with Kyouko to go, but he’s content with it nonetheless. 

**Author's Note:**

> note - i just wrote this for fun & to de-stress between study sessions. i'm not after any writing tips, criticisms etc. 
> 
> also for context - all the characters are in their final year of college/uni (so 3rd year). 
> 
> thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
